death

Callum Featherstone

A Voyage to the Impossible.

What matters the most to you shouldn’t be able to be experienced from your bodily senses. It should come from deep within your inner most depths and be intangible. Far away from the noise of this world and way into the realms of the impossible.

Transforming physical possession and perception into transcendental prosperity.

Despite the wonders of our minds and their ability to perceive so many things, we are taught in a blinkered, binary, positive/negative fashion from a very young age – good/bad, right/wrong, happy/sad.

But, we are all of these things at all times throughout our lives. Think about it;

An evil man can make a just law.

A good man can follow an unjust cause.

Both could be the same man;

of a different sort,

on different days too

and in different lives.

So, before you judge; pause.

Remember;

A journey’s map isn’t always to hand.

True wisdom is always food for thought.

Ignorance within your mind betrays you.

And, your everlasting infinite soul survives…

Always.

Your very existence is an impossible journey and, yet, here you are…

Life is the swelling sea, your mind is the swinging ship and your soul is the ripple of every wave which laps up against both life and mind, sea and ship, on a voyage to the impossible.

Callum Featherstone

Pink.

In this;

beguiled reality

avarice makes mincemeat of charity

and conceit fucks vanity.

The sick and the needy

die at the hands of the greedy.

Death by hate filled hearts;

scolding via network

scaffolding.

All the while, living in

wholly

indecent matrimony;

wedded by insanity.

“History always repeats itself.

History always repeats itself.”

A war of roses; red and white

without their heads

soon lost sight.

And stem of green then realised;

roses without petals

aren’t needed

nor recognised.

Angry is the blood.

Broken is the bone.

Nothing good can come from

a world wide webbed

throne

where lies are spun from.

And when all is said and done

it seems even odd to; think?

Before your actions

become

the difference between warring factions

and your essence becomes

on the brink

of existing.

Is this;

existence masquerading as extinct?

Or is this,

really;

extinction pretending

to be

in the pink?

Callum Featherstone

Cosmonaught

Arrogance of present answers

on past tech and advances,

history’s cerebral romances

laid in the dirt asleep,

by far frog-leaped;

and also out-enhanced us.

Commonplace it justly saddens –

common faces become assassins.

As Julius imbibed Manhattans

the death-toll sparked egregious.

The space in between us

became

chasms;

intercontinental planetary spasms.

It all matters; dark and light.

It all matters; wrong or right.

What’s the matter?

Bhagavad Gita? Quoting chapters?

Nuclear war hindsight…

Science, not before but after;

made sure of atomic plight.

You are birth, life and death;

in a universal breath.

An infinite respirator

expressed;

by heavy traffic – stars and planets.

A cosmos complete yet

bereft.

Callum Featherstone

Gules, argent and azure

Gules, argent and azure;

Is it really worth fighting for?

A folded flag on your coffin door;

Is it really worth dying for?

If you took the troops & civilians

Who were murdered by war

They’d measure in millions

They rest in peace?! Or at all?!

Cause the peaces don’t match

And the peace is a puzzle

War’s an itch you can’t scratch

A rabid dog you can’t muzzle

They’re inextricably linked

Dead civilian, dead soldier

Both should be extinct

But grow older and older

And younger and younger

There’s no ageism in bloodshed

But the greedy warmonger

Sees £ signs coloured blood-red

War is a game of power

99 percent of us lose in

Don’t choose graveside flowers

Cannon fodder’s not for chews-ing

Gules, argent and azure;

Is it really worth fighting for?

A folded flag on your coffin door;

Is it really worth dying for?

Callum Featherstone

The cost of living

As the final autumn leaves

Blanket the pavement beneath my feet

I’m reminded of tears of grief

Falling from hungry children’s cheeks.

In the guise of a vulture

Autumn austerity circles overhead

Eviscerates community and culture

Dining on poverty-stricken dead.

They call it a cost of living crisis

But when you take more than you’re giving

That’s a loss of giving crisis

And a sin there’s no forgiving.

Callum Featherstone

Freedom’s Death

“The Queen is dead.”

She’s eulogised

but nobody mourned our freedom

passing

into hands of tyrannical dread.

Subjugation disguised,

whilst liberty shaped tear drops fall on and on.

Everlasting…

Another lost lesson on

empirical oppression.

Callum Featherstone

Juxtaposition

The

Ritual

Is ever present

Ever lasting in the mind

Ever smiling like a moon’s curled crescent.

Un-

Hallowed ground

Cause once true belief

In a weary wanderer

Stolen by evening shadow thief.

Death

A fixture

Rivalled by birth’s goal

One in forty trillion

Odds favour few swimmers in a shoal.

Life’s

Scriptura

Stem from the seedling

Of a tree which reaches up

And grasps all six senses of feeling.

Callum Featherstone

Inevitability

The ever impending doom that is death lingers over us on a daily basis. We are reminded constantly of what it is to be human, and, what it is to be mortal, despite our best efforts to duck, dodge and dive away from the ageing process. Whether it be an early, mid or late life crisis, they all boil down to the same sediment and sentiment.

That we are born and in doing so we must eventually die.

And when you really think about it; the futility of life that is, it is deeply frightening.

At one point or another we will all experience this thought:

“I am just a grain of sand in an ever expanding universe that will have zero impact on history whatsoever. I will be forgotten just the same as everyone who has ever lived, and everyone whoever will live.”

And this is totally normal. Terrifying, but normal.

Most people combat these negative feelings through distraction. This is a good idea seeing as the feeling of insignificance is incredibly unpleasant.

Inevitably distraction is a key part of what it is to be human.

Equally, so is mortality.

The irony being that a distraction from the inevitable only brings that inevitability closer towards you.

I would argue that it is always better to embrace the inevitable.

Now don’t get me wrong. It would be unwise to ruminate on the fragility of existence constantly because ultimately this would cause strong feelings of depression and/or anxiety. I do, however, believe that it is good to come to terms with your fate. In doing so you will defeat fear itself and unlock your true potential to live.

My very simple advice would be as follows;

Live in the moment rather than the past.

Seize the day rather than worry about the future.

Remember that life is futile but you don’t have to be.

Die living. Don’t live dying.

Ultimately the chance of you being created is around 1 in 400 trillion. So, why waste it?

Death is inevitable. Life, however, is not.

Callum Featherstone

Pulling teeth for pure relief

The Mockingbird calls the shots

While politicking puerile plots

The blood it coagulates and clots

And History memory forgot.

Tears pour down Sorrow’s cheek

Hope cries out bruised and bleak

A universal losing streak

Would you want this Earth if you were meek?

The sense of loss from Zeitgeist’s grief

Innocents incur broke belief

Future frowns at Tomorrow’s thief

While pulling teeth for pure relief.

Callum Featherstone

Mortality

The tree of life
Is embedded in grief
The rolling tears
Are a falling leaf.

Yesterday’s sorrow
Is tomorrows joy
Life’s tapestry interwoven
With death’s own ploy.

Mortality
Is essential
And impossible to avoid
But your essence and your
Spirit can never be destroyed.